The Costumes
by Bears Eat Beets
Summary: It's Halloween. Jim and Pam are in a competition. Angela's in the middle of an awful day. Dwight's in a skirt. Rated T because I'm too old to rate it otherwise. Now complete.
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Okay so, I only meant for this to be a one-shot, but it keeps growing and growing...well, to three chapters, anyway. I envision this as the Halloween that would occur during season five. I pulled out my Jump to Conclusions mat and figured Jim and Pam would already be engaged, but - here at least - they don't live together. Sorry.

If you aren't a Star Wars or Indiana Jones fan, this may not make quite as much sense. And also, what's wrong with you? Just kidding. Sort of. Here is where I should also mention that I own the rights to none of the source materials of the eight thousand or so pop culture references made.

Two final notes: a heartfelt thanks to the brilliant ktface3 for her suggestions and ideas on this. So awesome! Also, if in your review you can point out the clue hidden in this chapter to the _next _story I'm working on, I'll give you a prize. Really!

Enjoy!

* * *

A soft click of the door opening signaled the first arrival of the day. As usual it was Pam. She looked up and spotted the camera, which panned up and down her body. She was dressed in a floor-length, maroon gown of sorts with an equally long sheer gray vest over it. Her hair was done in two looping braids, with some type of bun in the back. She immediately looked down at herself, then brought a hand to her hair. Finally she managed an embarassed smile.

"Happy Halloween," she said, as brightly as possible.

* * *

Pam: (_smiling and blushing slightly_) Um, Jim and I are having a 'who'll have the…better costume" challenge…? It started as a joke, but then…well, you know how we get. (_She raises her eyebrows._) I know he's planning something big because he took off yesterday and didn't want to get together. (_A pause while she listens to a question from off-camera._) Oh, we, uh, aren't trying to have the most _creative_ costume, exactly; it's more…uh…(_She fiddles with one of her looped braids, not able to look directly at the camera._) It's a sexy costume challenge, okay?

(_Pam looks down at herself for a moment._) I'm Princess Leia, in _The Empire Strikes Back_? It's the outfit she wears when she and Han Solo are in Cloud City. I made it myself. (_She shrugs._) I know, I know, it doesn't seem sexy at all, but Jim let it slip months ago that he had the biggest crush on her after that part. He may be the only guy alive that prefers _this_ to the metal bikini. (_She suddenly pales._) You don't think…?

* * *

Dwight stood frozen in front of Reception, his face a mask of surprise and – for a horrible moment - lust. Pam's lips were pursed, and she shot a desperate look toward the camera. Finally, Dwight cleared his throat and he stood a little straighter. "Interesting costume, Pam," he said neutrally as he headed toward his desk.

"Thanks," she responded softly, sighing.

Michael swept in immediately after. Upon spotting Pam a look of disgust contorted his features.

"Aw, come _on, _Pam! A _Golden Girl_?First the ugly glasses, now this? Have you _completely _given up?"

Pam sighed again.

* * *

Dwight: Of _course _I know who Pam is dressed as. Do I think she looks _sexy_? (_His face screws into a frown_.) No. First of all the costume is _far_ from accurate – for one, where is the quilting at the shoulders of her vest? You _can't_ ignore details like that. Besides, I preferred Leia as she was dressed on the ice planet Hoth. (_Dwight nods slowly_.) Being prepared for the elements is _very_ sexy. (_A pause._) Pam doesn't look _terrible_, though.

* * *

Michael: Well, _Pam_ may have gotten her costume from the Salvation Army geezer section, but _some _of us tried. (_He stands and comes around his desk, turning left and right to show off his costume_. _What he is supposed to be is unclear, as he is wearing a black suit, white shirt and dark tie – hardly a far stretch from his normal attire._) Oh, shoot…I need these. (_He leans over his desk and retrieves a pair of sunglasses and what appears to be a woman's fedora, as evidenced by the hot pink band around it. He puts both on._) I'm a Blues Brother! (_Michael imitates the Blues Brothers' dance for a moment, then laughs. The camera jerks upward to focus on his hat. His smile falters a little._) I found it at Claire's. My head is too small for a man's hat.

* * *

Pam looked up eagerly as she heard the door open, but her face fell again when she saw it was only Angela entering. As she removed her coat, the camera swung around to catch Dwight watching her surreptitiously. She was wearing a camel-colored sweater and pants, but a curly tail was fastened to the back of her sweater. A zoom-in revealed tiny bananas dangling from her ears.

"Good morning, Pam," she greeted primly, reaching a hand into her bag and retrieving a headband with tiny rounded, tan ears attached to it.

"Morning, Angela," Pam managed, flashing an 'oh my God!' to the camera as Angela popped the headband on. With an almost imperceptible smile she continued to her desk.

Smiling glibly, Dwight returned to his work.

* * *

Angela: (_airily_) I've worn my cat costume three years in a row. (_One corner of her mouth twitches_.) I just thought it was time for a change.

* * *

Michael came out of his office dressed in full Elwood regalia and Kelly, who had been talking at Pam, turned and clapped excitedly. "Omigod, Michael! I love it!" she squealed.

He smiled indulgently. "Well thank you, Kelly."

"Who are you supposed to be?" Pam asked, her brow furrowed. Kelly rolled her eyes.

"Pam, _duh_! He's _totally_ Britney from the 'Me Against The Music' video – y'know, the one with Madonna?"

"What? No," Michael spluttered.

"That's _so_ clever, I wish _I'd_ thought of that – that was before she got all mixed up with K-Fed and, like, drugs and stuff. She was _sooo _awesome then," Kelly continued as if she hadn't heard.

"I'm not Britney Spears! Why would I dress as a _girl_?"

"You dressed in girl's clothes before," Kevin pointed out, reaching into Pam's candy dish.

"Sshhut…it," Michael hissed. "Besides, what are _you_, the Unabomber?"

"No, I'm Phil Laak."

"Who the hell is that? That's gay. No, no, that's _retarded_," Michael amended, glancing nervously at the camera.

"Not as gay as Britney Spears," Kevin muttered, giggling around his candy.

"I'm _not_ Britney Spears! I'm a Blues Brother!" He did his dance again, somewhat angrily, to prove his point.

"Britney dances too," Kelly pointed out.

"And you _did _dress as a girl," Kevin repeated defensively.

"Really?" The question came from Holly, who had entered unnoticed. Michael's eyes darted from Kevin to her, back to Kevin, then rested on Holly.

"No, no. Kevin's an idiot…" But he trailed off as he took in Holly's costume. She wore a short platinum wig, huge bug-like sunglasses and a trench coat. "Wow…Miranda Priestly?" he guessed hopefully.

Holly reached up and touched her wig.

"Yeah," she said, smiling lightly.

"Omigod, I _love The Devil Wears Prada_!" Kelly announced, clapping again.

* * *

Holly: Michael has a thing for Meryl Streep…? Oh. I hadn't heard that.

(_She looks down, smiling lightly again._)

* * *

Pam was looking thoroughly irritated by the time the door opened at 9:08. Just as it did the phone rang.

"Dunder Mifflin, this is…" Her voice faltered as she and Jim locked eyes. He was staring at her wide-eyed, the look on his face one that his current alter-ego would reserve for a roomful of snakes or a vampy German Grail scholar. Pam swallowed, hard. "I'm sorry, this is Pam," she finally stammered into the phone.

Jim shook his head a little and collected himself, attempting a breezy smile and a tip of his fedora at her as he headed for his desk. The color rising in both his cheeks and hers silently declared the competition a tie. Thus far.

* * *

Jim: (_pointing_) Kids, that is why you _don't_ get drunk with your fiancé and watch _Star Wars_. No matter how much you love each other, nothing revealed'll remain sacred. (_He shakes his head, grinning._) She's _good_, isn't she?

* * *

Pam: (_her eyes full of wonder_) Do you think he called off yesterday _just _to grow that stubble?

* * *

Jim: (_rubbing his chin proudly_) Yes I did. Indy has stubble, and I'm committed to accuracy. (_He looks down at his costume_.) I know it's not the most creative, because who _doesn't _find Indiana Jones sexy? But he's a _particular_ favorite of Pam's and I had to justify the forty bucks I spent on the hat on our Disney trip. (_A pause; he rubs his chin again._) When I saw the stubble this morning I almost switched to Bruce Springstein, circa 1984. (_He smiles evilly._) _That's_ a story for another time. Ultimately I stuck with Indy. (_Jim's eyes narrow._) I was kinda worried Meredith might be really into Bruce.

* * *

As Jim settled in to his seat the camera swung toward Accounting. Oscar was looking toward Sales with a strange expression, but when he spotted the camera he turned quickly, clearing his throat.

* * *

Oscar: (_who is dressed as Carmen Miranda_) Sometimes I think the costume thing gets a little…distracting.

* * *

Jim was turning on his computer when Dwight exited Michael's office, where he'd been attempting to cheer up his boss. Jim's eyes went wide again upon spotting his deskmate. He was dressed as one of the Spartans from _300_. The one difference was, rather than go shirtless, Dwight had donned a wifebeater which was decorated with rippling abs and pectorals that seemed to have been drawn on with a Sharpie marker. Jim gave the camera a Jim.

"Nice costume, Dwight."

"I know."

"Have you been working out?"

A soft snort issued from Reception.

"I'm in _excellent_ shape under this as well. Holly informed me it was against company rules to be in the office shirtless."

"Thank God for Holly," Jim murmured, then nodded approvingly at Dwight. "Great skirt, too."

"It is not a skirt."

"Then what is it?"

"It's a…tunic," Dwight attempted somewhat lamely. Jim rubbed his chin thoughtfully.

"I think tunics have tops."

"It's not a skirt," Dwight repeated.

"Okay, then what _is _it?"

There was a long pause.

"_Not_ a skirt."

* * *

Angela: I enjoy most of the costumes. Some are better than others. (_She fingers her right earring._) Even if they _do _come from a pagan culture.

* * *

At 10:30 Jim strolled toward Reception. "So who won?" he asked her, leaning in.

"I think it's still undecided."

"Mmm." He cocked his head to the side. "I'm expecting a call. Can you let me know when it comes in?"

"Sure. Who are you expecting a call from?" she questioned, grabbing a pen.

Jim grinned. "A Dr. Martin Brody?" he supplied. Pam rolled her eyes and threw her pen at him.

"Pathetic."

Michael wandered out of his office. He removed his sunglasses and looked around. "Where's Andy?" he wondered aloud.

"He hasn't come in," Pam told him.

"Mrs. Andy?" Michael looked to Angela, who was at the copy machine.

"Don't call me that, Michael. We're not married," she replied curtly. Noticing the look she was getting from Phyllis, who was standing next to her, she tacked on a hasty "yet. And I don't know where Andy is."

Just then the front door was thrown open. "I'm so sorry, I know I'm really, really late!" Andy cried before he had completely entered.

"Where the hell have you been?" Michael asked.

"I couldn't get the damn spirit gum to hold my beard on," he replied, pressing against a patch of hair along his jaw. He flashed a toothy grin and spread his arms wide. "Whatcha think?"

Jim looked him over slowly. "Jesus Christ," he said, sounding both disbelieving and delighted. Andy pointed excitedly.

"Exactly!" He strutted a little and looked to Angela. "Sweetheart?" The camera turned to her as well. Her face was as crimson as Andy's holy robe.

"Andy! _Why_ would you…_how_ could you…," she stuttered. Andy's face collapsed into confusion.

"I thought you'd like it – that you'd think it was cute."

"_Cute_?" she spat, sounding near tears. "You thought I'd find you dressing up like our Lord and Savior on a _pagan _holiday 'cute'?! That's _blasphemous_!"

"Well how the hell was I supposed to know _that_?" Andy questioned. Angela's jaw dropped.

"And now you're _cursing_?! What's _wrong _with you?" she wailed, throwing down her papers and storming off toward the restroom. The camera caught Jim and Pam exchanging looks of shock.

It also caught a tiny smile from Dwight.

* * *

Andy: (_wearing an "I'm making the best of this, really!" face_) Guess I misjudged that one, huh? It's fine though…and hey, just goes to show how fiery our relationship is. (_He shrugs._) Maybe I should have gone with the Pope…? (_A long pause, during which Andy's face falls._) I mean what was I _supposed _to wear, a skirt like _Dwight_?

* * *

Dwight: _(smiling maniacally, one eyebrow arched_) 'You bring the crowns and heads of conquered kings to my city steps. You insult my queen. You threaten my people with slavery and death! Oh, I've chosen my words carefully, Persian. Perhaps you should have done the same!' (_holding his fist high_) 'This…is…_SPARTA!'_ (_A brief pause_.) _SCRANTON! _


	2. Chapter 2

Midmorning found Phyllis, Kelly and Pam taking a break at Pam's counter, looking through some photos Phyllis had brought in. "And this is Bob Vance's niece Jessica at her school play," Phyllis explained, showing Pam and Kelly the picture.

"How cute!" Kelly gushed. Pam nodded her agreement.

"I know…Ooo, and here's our new puppy," Phyllis continued, flipping the album's page to show the next photo.

"Aww," Pam cooed while Kelly clasped her hands over her heart. "What's his name?"

"We named the dog Indiana."

Pam bit her lip and her eyes darted toward Jim, who grinned without turning from his monitor.

* * *

Jim: (_smirking_) I bet she'll have a lot of fond memories with that dog. Thanks, Phyllis.

* * *

Pam: Am I distracted seeing Jim dressed that way? I forgot he was, actually. (_A silent moment passes during which Pam bites her lip again. Finally she throws up her hands._) Who names a dog Indiana?

* * *

The majority of the office had gathered in the break room that day for lunch. "So do you like my costume?" Kelly asked Pam. Pam gave Kelly a quizzical glance. She was dressed in head-to-toe pink – in other words, the same as usual.

"I'm not sure who you are," she admitted as gently as possible. Kelly frowned momentarily, then rolled her eyes.

"Oh of course not – duh," she replied, standing and sprinting from the room. Pam looked at Jim, who shrugged.

"I was going to guess Paris Hilton," he told her, popping a Dorito in his mouth.

"No Tinkerbell," Pam pointed out. Jim shook his head.

"It makes me sad that you know that."

A moment later, Kelly returned, setting a tiny stuffed Chihuahua wearing an even tinier boa next to her lunch. Jim coughed suddenly, grabbing for his soda. "Okay, _now _guess," she ordered, ignoring him.

"Um," Pam said evenly. Kelly giggled.

"I'm Elle Woods, from _Legally Blonde_? This is Bruiser!" She patted the stuffed animal's head.

Jim began choking again.

"Aren't you supposed to be…blonde?" Phyllis asked tentatively from the next table.

* * *

Kelly: (_in a matter-of-fact tone_) It'd be _way _too damaging to dye my hair blonde, and if you think I'm going to risk wig-head, you are _ca-ray-zy_!

Jim: (_with a shrug_) I'm giving myself half credit. Less skanky, but just as dumb.

* * *

Holly knocked softly on Michael's open door. "Hey!" he greeted her, trying to nonchalantly tip his monitor away from her. "What's up?"

"Not much. I just didn't get a chance to tell you how much I love your costume," she told him, leaning against the doorframe and folding her arms. "Elwood Blues, right?"

"Yeah," Michael said through a chuckle, smoothing his tie. Holly nodded, smiling.

"You look great. I love that movie. Both of them, really."

"Did you see me do the dance?"

"I missed that…maybe at the party later?"

"Sure, sure," he agreed, coming around his desk to lean against the front. "Although it loses something without musical accompaniment."

"I actually have the soundtrack in my car," Holly said, looking at the ground before she met his eyes again. Michael's eyebrows shot up.

"Really?" He smacked his hand against the desk. "That'd be great, except dammit! I lent the stereo to Ja- to a friend last week. Sh- _He _didn't have one in his apartment and he wanted the baby…baby ferrets…that he's raising…to listen to classical music. Like Coldplay."

"Oh. Well…Maybe we could move the party to Poor Richard's? I know they have 'Soul Man' on the jukebox – I played it last time I was there," she admitted, smiling a little.

"I know Angela has worked hard on a party-"

"Oh right, of course-"

But Michael waved away her comment. "But big deal. I'm the boss, right? We'll just scrap her party. They're never that good anyway."

"Are you sure that's a good idea? She's had a rough day," Holly said.

"She'll be fine. Don't worry about it." Michael smiled widely at Holly. "Great idea."

"Thanks," she accepted, ducking her head a little as she turned to leave. She cast him one last look. "I really _am _looking forward to your dance," she told him.

"Okay!" he laughed. His smile melted into nervousness once she was out of sight.

* * *

Michael: Holly is not only kind, and beautiful, _and _wearing a great costume. She's also a genius. I mean, moving the party to Poor Richard's? No one's _ever _suggested that before. Never crossed _my _mind either! She's really something_._ (_He stands._) Now if you'll excuse me, I have a performance to prepare for.

* * *

Jim was at the vending machine when Oscar walked in. "Hey," Jim greeted him, retrieving his soda from the opening. "Great costume."

"Thanks," Oscar said, forcing an awkward smile. "You too."

Jim tipped his hat at him. "Thank you."

Oscar pointed. "Even found the whip, huh?"

Jim nodded, patting the leather whip hanging from his belt.. "I had a heck of a time too, but what's Indiana Jones without his whip right? 'Throw me the idol, I'll throw you the whip!'"

Oscar laughed weakly. "Right."

Jim clapped him on the shoulder as he left. Oscar took a deep breath and pursed his lips.

* * *

Oscar: (_sighing heavily_) I mean, really. It's _too _distracting.

* * *

Jim looked up from a sales report to see Dwight staring off towards Accounting. Andy was kneeling next to Angela's desk attempting again to apologize. She was coolly ignoring him.

"Hey, Dwight," he attempted to distract him.

"What?" Dwight muttered, not breaking his gaze.

"When do you need to return the feather duster on your head to the custodial staff?"

"Shut up, Jim," he replied automatically, still watching intently. Jim shot a look at the camera. It was quiet a moment.

"Did you ready your breakfast and eat hearty?" Jim asked. Dwight said nothing. "For you know where you dine tonight…right?"

"In Hell," Dwight sighed, looking a little sad. Jim leaned in.

"Dwight. _Dwight_," he repeated urgently. Dwight slowly looked his way.

"What?"

"What do Spartans never do?" Jim asked quietly. Dwight shook his head and picked up a file. "C'mon, Dwight, just answer. What do Spartans _never _do?"

"Spartans never retreat," he humored him. Jim nodded encouragingly.

"And…?"

Dwight glanced at Jim again, the start of a smile tugging at his lips. "Spartans _never _surrender," he said, a little more cheerily. Jim nodded again.

"There you go."

They returned to work as Meredith, whose only attempt at dressing up was a tiara she had borrowed from Kelly that morning, walked past on her way toward Reception. "Michael, I'm heading out. I've got that doctor's appointment at three-thirty," she informed him as she put on her coat.

"Oh, right, okay." He stepped closer to her. "Hip check-up?" he whispered. She made a face and nodded.

"Yeah…thanks for bringing it up. Really. See you tomorrow," she said as she headed for the door. Pam gave her a wave.

"So long, Princess!" Michael called, unable to keep a note of sarcasm out of his voice.

Jim's head jerked upward violently.

Pam's mouth formed a delighted 'o,' then she grinned cheekily as she caught Jim looking at her. She winked at him. He sighed, forced himself to look at his computer again, and dipped his hat a little lower over his eyes.

* * *

Pam: (_smiling triumphantly_) Aaaand suddenly we're even. Thank you, Michael. (_She raises her eyebrows, surprised._) For _once_ I mean that not-sarcastically.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's Note: **I had a bit of trouble wrapping this up, but I think it turned out okay. Hope you do too. And PS, if you're not sure about the way Jim and Pam's challenge is settled, PM me. I'll try and explain it without too much derision. Kind of joking. (Sorry; in my house not knowing that quote is a punishable offense. Among nerds, it's a classic.) If you fear my text wrath, try Google. :)

Also, just so you know, the internet hates me. My cursing while trying to upload this? Rated M, for "man...I effing hate the internet." Even if you think this sucks, leave me kind reviews to soothe my frazzled nerves.

Totally _not _above begging.

Thanks for reading! Enjoy!

* * *

"Michael, we need to start setting up for the party," Angela informed her boss as she cast a quick glance over her shoulder to make sure Andy wasn't following her. Michael stopped the Blues Brothers YouTube video he'd been watching.

"Oh, the party. Yeah. Meant to tell you, Monchichi, Holly had a brilliant idea about the party," he said, folding his hands in front of him.

"Oh really?" she asked, immediately suspicious.

Michael nodded. "We're moving the party to Poor Richard's."

She blinked. "What?" she snapped.

"Yep. Isn't that a great idea? _Much_ more fun than having it here," he ruled.

"But what about all the food and decorations I already brought in?" Angela protested.

"Sh-sh-sh!" He waved his hands at her.

"I won't! I put a lot of-"

"Sh!"

Angela said nothing further. Michael waited a moment. "Knock knock," he prompted her.

"You told me to 'sh,'" she reminded him bitterly.

"Just say 'who's there?'" he instructed her, shooting a playful glance at the camera.

Angela sighed. "Who's. There."

"Sh!" Michael laughed. Angela shook her head. "Austin Powers," he explained to the camera, then pointed at Angela. "I've got a whole bag of sh! with your name on it!" he added, still chuckling. Angela's jaw clenched visibly. Upon realizing that she wasn't nearly as amused as he was, he sighed. "Look Angela, you've got to learn to roll with the punches, and right now I'm punching you into Poor Richard's." He waved his hand frantically, pressing the other to his eyes." _Not _literally, of course," he amended quickly. "Abusing women, that's just….ugh. Awful."

"I can't believe you're doing this," she said through gritted teeth. He shrugged.

"Believe it," he said simply. Angela stalked back out and Michael followed her. "Ladies and germs, attention! In fifteen minutes, upon the brilliant suggestion of our lovely, _lovely_ Holly, we will be shootin' out of here early and having our Halloween party over at Poor Richard's," he announced. A murmur of approval rippled through the office. Michael nodded proudly. "Exactly! So much better than anything here, right? Sooo…make the next fifteen count!"

He pivoted and returned to his office before he could notice Angela quickly changing direction and heading toward not her desk, but the bathroom. Dwight stared after her, but started when he saw Andy looking at him.

"Women," he muttered. "What a pain-o in the rear-o."

Dwight said nothing, opting to glare at his computer instead.

* * *

Angela: (_her face flushed_) You know, Phyllis was…_kind_ enough (_her face contorts_) to allow me to head the Party Planning Committee again and what does Michael do? Ruins _everything_! He does this _all_ the time! Moving the party to Poor Richard's isn't '_brilliant_' – Meredith suggests that _every_ time we plan a party! Meredith suggests that when we're _not_ planning a party! (_Angela folds her arms and gives her infamous eyebrow arch._) I'm still bringing my cupcakes.

* * *

Phyllis: Well I certainly didn't want Angela to get upset, but I'm sure she can handle it. She's very…efficient. (_She trails off, unable to hide a very un-Phyllis-like, devious grin._)

* * *

As the employees of Scranton's Dunder Mifflin branch gathered their things to head out for the party, Jim held out Pam's coat for her. "So where do we stand, Beesly?"

"We're still tied," she said pointedly. She returned behind her desk to grab her purse as Stanley and Oscar made their way to the coat rack.

"I couldn't believe they had actually called the police, but there they were, escorting this drunk guy out of the theater. I couldn't help but stare!" Oscar recounted. He and Stanley shared a chuckle. "One of the officers caught me looking and had the best line."

"What'd he say?"

"Totally deadpan: 'No tickets.'"

They chuckled again as Pam blanched. "Oh God," she moaned. Jim smiled the smile of a champion.

"Guess it's decided," he replied.

"You told him to say that," she replied. Jim wrapped an arm around her.

"You wish."

"Oh come _on_, what are the odds?"

"Very high. You can't deny the power of Indy."

"It's still not over," Pam told him stubbornly.

"Right," Jim said in a tone that implied exactly the opposite. He gave the camera one last smile as they exited the office.

* * *

Pam: (_outside Poor Richard's_) Yeah, I think I lost. There's _one_ quote that could save me… (_She shakes her head._) Yeah, I lost.

* * *

The bar was busier than usual, a result of it being a holiday and a Friday. 'Monster Mash' was playing on the jukebox. "Grab a table, my party people!" Michael instructed, then began doing his best zombie impression. Ever one to please his boss, Andy joined in. Angela, struggling with a tray of cupcakes, gave him a disapproving look. He caught her and rolled his eyes.

"Oh c'mon, honey – he _did _rise from the dead," he pointed out loudly.

"Not…not like that…forget it," she finally spat, stalking off toward the table Phyllis and Creed were already seated at. Andy scowled. "I just don't get her," he muttered. From behind him Dwight rolled his eyes.

"Duh," he said softly. Andy turned.

"What's that, buddy?" Dwight looked torn for a moment.

"Nothing," Dwight spat.

* * *

Dwight: (_in front of the bar; Andy is visible in the background shooting darts with Darryl and Kevin. Angela can also be seen slightly behind Dwight, watching him wistfully._) It really is too bad that Andy Bernard isn't knowledge in the ways of a strong, dedicated woman. Like Angela. (_A long pause._) In Accounting.

(_Angela smiles slightly._)

* * *

'Soul Man' started to play, and a small crowd gathered to watch Michael perform. Holly started the group in clapping along, looking more delighted than the rest of his audience, save Andy. The camera turned slightly and caught Angela standing in the far corner. Dwight approached her.

"Hello Angela," he said quietly, feigning great interest in the Bud Light mirror hanging next to her. She smiled without looking at him.

"Hello Dwight."

"I enjoy your costume."

"Thank you. I enjoy yours as well." She peered around, searching for the cameras. When she didn't spot one she sighed. "I'm having the worst day."

"I know. I'm sorry." There was a long silence and Dwight chanced glancing at her. "Would you like to come over-"

"D, I can't keep doing that behind his back."

"But he's a moron."

"I know," she said, sighing again. "We'll see, all right?"

Dwight nodded. "All right." And with that, he strolled casually over to watch Michael's enthusiastic performance.

* * *

"You were fantastic!" Holly congratulated a very sweaty, winded Michael a few minutes later as the two stood at the bar.

"Wow, thanks," he panted. "Glad you liked it."

"I really did. Did you have to practice much?"

"Practice? Nah. Just have an inane talent for dancing, I guess."

"Well, you were great," Holly said, nodding.

"Well, thank you," Michael repeated, nodding too.

A silence.

"Ah-thank ya very much," Michael added in a bad southern drawl.

Holly laughed. "Elvis," she guessed.

He laughed too. "Yup. Yes. You got it."

"Nice."

Another silence.

* * *

Michael: (_in front of the men's room_) Yes, it's really nice to have people appreciate your talents. Feeds the soul. (_He thinks for a moment._) Maybe I could bring Holly to improv sometime. (_He smiles at the camera for a moment, then his smile fades._) If you don't mind, all the dancing _really _made me have to…yeah…

(_Michael quickly enters the restroom._)

* * *

The office workers were seated around the long table when the waiter approached, carrying a tray loaded with baskets of various greasy bar food. "Chow time!" Michael announced.

"What?" Angela asked, horrified. "When did you order all that?"

"When we got here," Michael answered, reaching for the nachos.

"But I brought cupcakes!"

"They're good too," Kevin added, nodding. A smudge of purple frosting was inexplicably on the corner of his sunglasses.

"Good for you, but we're at a _bar_, Pipsqueak – we need _bar _food!"

"But this was _not _part of the plan!"

"Live a little! Michael admonished her.

"Yeah sweetie – cupcakes are great, but cheese sticks with beer? Can't be beat," Andy said, shoving a full cheese stick in his mouth. Angela's eyes shot invisible daggers at him

"True dat, my brotha," Michael said, grinning and giving Andy a fist pound.

With great effort Angela returned her glare to Michael. "We don't have money in the budget for this," she attempted to tell him, but he waved it off.

"Must eat - no time to discuss this as a committee," he ruled with a mouthful of food. Angela's eyes narrowed.

"I am _not _a committee!" She stormed out, sans cupcakes.

The camera immediately turned to Jim and Pam, a few seats down, so quickly that it caught Pam choking on the sip of beer she'd been taking and Jim's eyes go saucer-wide and face turn shockingly pink. Once she had recovered, a brilliant smile lit up Pam's face.

"No way," she breathed, turning to Jim excitedly. He still looked like a deer in the headlights for a moment, but finally he blinked and nearly toppled his chair as he got to his feet. "What are you doing?" she asked.

"We're going home."

"Whose home?"

"Doesn't matter," Jim said, practically shoving Pam into her coat, then taking her hand and pulling her toward the door.

"Say it," she instructed through laughter.

"I think it's obvious" was his reply.

Their coworkers watched in confusion for a moment, then Kevin giggled and turned to Oscar.

"'Time for _love, _Doctah Jones!'" he said delightedly.

Oscar sighed and took a long sip of his drink.

* * *

Pam: (_outside the bar; whispering_) Did you see that? Amazing! Who'd have thought _Angela _would help me pull it out?

(_Jim enters the shot. He is still blushing._)

Jim: Come on.

Pam: Say it first.

Jim: (_tipping his hat, then giving her a deep kiss_) You won. Happy?

Pam: (_now flustered and blushing too, but still managing to_ _wink at the camera_) Extremely.

Jim: Good. (_He gives the camera a wave._) See ya.

(_Pam's laughter can be heard as Jim pulls her out of the shot_.)

* * *

As the party continued inside, Dwight's eyebrows suddenly furrowed. He pulled his cell phone from his pocket, opened it and hit a few buttons. A moment later a smile nearly split his face in two.

* * *

(_Dwight is hidden behind the jukebox, holding out his cell phone to the camera, still smiling. A zoom in reveals he is showing off a text message._

**d – be here 10 pm. or else.  
****monkey**

Dwight: _'Spartans! Prepare for glory!'_


End file.
